On Sunday, I completed my first Ironman in Lake Placid, New York. What an experience. As usual, the night before the race didn’t go as planned. I ate lunch two hours late and thus didn’t have dinner until almost 6pm (I hoped to eat by 4:00). I went to bed at 7pm and, to my surprise, I slept the entire night through. I woke up race morning and began my pre-race ritual – eat, drink, pace, eat, pace, drink, pace, pace, pace…. We left the hotel at around 4:30 for transition. The Whiteface Inn provided transportation to the start line. This was great in that I didn’t have to second guess my preparation by over-hearing how well my fellow racers’ preparation went, what they ate, how many centuries they rode and marathons they ran the week before the race, etc. (Believe it or not, one tri-club swam the entire course, road 56 miles and ran 10 miles the day before the race!). Upon arriving at the oval, I quickly moved through body-marking and checked the pressure in my tires. Speaking of tires, Richie from Elite Bicycles completely over-hauled my bike on Saturday morning and made some key adjustments. Next time you race an Ironman, seek him out. His work is excellent and he’s a really nice guy. Anyway, after preparing my bike I dropped off my special needs bags. Then, I waited, waited, and waited some more. After what seemed like an eternity, 6:30 rolled around and I headed toward the swim start. After crossing the timing mat, I swam to the rear of the holding area. To say I’m not a great swimmer is an understatement, so I started in the rear of the pack. Upon reaching my desired position in the back, I stood up and began waiting some more. Nervously, I tightened my goggles. Then, the unthinkable happened – they broke. There I stood in Mirror Lake minutes away from the swim that had caused me many sleepless nights with a broken pair of goggles in my hand. “Don’t panic” I said to myself. “You’ve prepared for everything.” And I had. For some then unknown reason, I’d thrown a spare pair of goggles in my dry clothes the morning of the race. I turned toward the spectator covered hill and held up my goggles. A collective gasp shattered the otherwise eerie silence of race morning. I walked toward the hill where my sister sat watching. The look on her face was that of sheer horror. She knew how nervous I was about the swim and I knew she thought my
race was over before it started. I yelled up to her, “Can you throw me my spare goggles from my bag?” She dug furiously and finally found them. She tossed them down to me and I in turn tossed her up the broken pair (the best souvenir I have from the race). I said with a smile, “I’ll see you at the finish line” and headed back out into the water to await the cannon. With a thunderous bang, the race began. As I said, I’m not the best swimmer. However, with the exception of a cramp in my right calf about 2 miles in, the swim went well (at least for me). Over an hour and a half later, I exited the water elated. I had survived the swim. T1 went well and soon I was on the major descent into Keene. While my legs were flatter during the ride than I had hoped, and the head winds on the second loop were nearly 20 miles per hour, I completed the bike leg without incident. By the time I reached the run course, the temperature had gone up significantly. At this point, however, I didn’t care. I was 26.2 miles away from becoming an Ironman. During the run, a lot of things go through your head. I thought of the countless hours I had trained for this, my friends and fellow athletes from Team Polar and the multisports.com camp, Paula Newby-Fraser telling me at breakfast on Friday to remember that today was my day, my guardian angel Judi from Virginia (she’s the wonderful volunteer who checked me in, and who I ran into 5 times over 3 days, including at the pancake breakfast and the church service the night before the race – her support and encouragement were unparalleled), my family and friends who inspired me (especially my sister who could be heard screaming over the entire crowd – “Ron, you’re a rock star. You’re going to be an Ironman!”), my training partners at home who without them I wouldn’t have even reached the starting line, and I of course thought about Mike Reilly saying, “Ron Kowalczyk, You are an Ironman.” While difficult (and slow I might add), the marathon went by quicker than any I had previously run. As I reached the 25 mile marker, something indescribable came over me and to try to explain it would be futile. It was if I had just awoken from a long sleep, full of energy and excitement. The last mile of my first Ironman may very well have been the fastest mile I ever ran. I was passing people like they were standing still. And then I saw it – the entrance into the oval, the final lap before the finish.
Turning the corner I saw the finish line. It was surreal. To be honest, I only vaguely remember the last 50 yards of the run and really don’t remember the moment I crossed the finish line. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, there was an arm around my shoulder and someone congratulating me. My handler was awesome. “Congratulations” he said, “You’re an Ironman. How do you feel?” I felt great. Strangely, I was actually hungry. “That’s a good sign,” he said. “What would you like to eat?” “PIZZA!” I replied. “Well, I have good news for you. We have pizza.” He went on to say, “The fact that you want solid food at this point is great. You’re going to be just fine.” He removed his arm from my shoulder, congratulated me again and pointed me to the pizza tent. I think those two slices were the best pizza I’d ever had. After eating and stretching, I found my family and collected my belongings from transition. After dropping everything off at the hotel, we went back for the finish line party. Whether you are an athlete or a spectator, the finish line party is something everyone should attend. It’s truly amazing. In short, I was blessed to have had a perfect Ironman experience. Thanks to everyone who helped and inspired me along the way. I couldn’t have done it without you. But don’t think you’re done – I’ve signed up to do it all again next year.
On Sunday, I completed my first Ironman in Lake Placid, New York. What an experience. As usual, the night before the race didn’t go as planned. I ate lunch two hours late and thus didn’t have dinner until almost 6pm (I hoped to eat by 4:00). I went to bed at 7pm and, to my surprise, I slept the entire night through. I woke up race morning and began my pre-race ritual – eat, drink, pace, eat, pace, drink, pace, pace, pace…. We left the hotel at around 4:30 for transition. The Whiteface Inn provided transportation to the start line. This was great in that I didn’t have to second guess my preparation by over-hearing how well my fellow racers’ preparation went, what they ate, how many centuries they rode and marathons they ran the week before the race, etc. (Believe it or not, one tri-club swam the entire course, road 56 miles and ran 10 miles the day before the race!). Upon arriving at the oval, I quickly moved through body-marking and checked the pressure in my tires. Speaking of tires, Richie from Elite Bicycles completely over-hauled my bike on Saturday morning and made some key adjustments. Next time you race an Ironman, seek him out. His work is excellent and he’s a really nice guy. Anyway, after preparing my bike I dropped off my special needs bags. Then, I waited, waited, and waited some more. After what seemed like an eternity, 6:30 rolled around and I headed toward the swim start. After crossing the timing mat, I swam to the rear of the holding area. To say I’m not a great swimmer is an understatement, so I started in the rear of the pack. Upon reaching my desired position in the back, I stood up and began waiting some more. Nervously, I tightened my goggles. Then, the unthinkable happened – they broke. There I stood in Mirror Lake minutes away from the swim that had caused me many sleepless nights with a broken pair of goggles in my hand. “Don’t panic” I said to myself. “You’ve prepared for everything.” And I had. For some then unknown reason, I’d thrown a spare pair of goggles in my dry clothes the morning of the race. I turned toward the spectator covered hill and held up my goggles. A collective gasp shattered the otherwise eerie silence of race morning. I walked toward the hill where my sister sat watching. The look on her face was that of sheer horror. She knew how nervous I was about the swim and I knew she thought my 
race was over before it started. I yelled up to her, “Can you throw me my spare goggles from my bag?” She dug furiously and finally found them. She tossed them down to me and I in turn tossed her up the broken pair (the best souvenir I have from the race). I said with a smile, “I’ll see you at the finish line” and headed back out into the water to await the cannon. With a thunderous bang, the race began. As I said, I’m not the best swimmer. However, with the exception of a cramp in my right calf about 2 miles in, the swim went well (at least for me). Over an hour and a half later, I exited the water elated. I had survived the swim. T1 went well and soon I was on the major descent into Keene. While my legs were flatter during the ride than I had hoped, and the head winds on the second loop were nearly 20 miles per hour, I completed the bike leg without incident. By the time I reached the run course, the temperature had gone up significantly. At this point, however, I didn’t care. I was 26.2 miles away from becoming an Ironman. During the run, a lot of things go through your head. I thought of the countless hours I had trained for this, my friends and fellow athletes from Team Polar and the multisports.com camp, Paula Newby-Fraser telling me at breakfast on Friday to remember that today was my day, my guardian angel Judi from Virginia (she’s the wonderful volunteer who checked me in, and who I ran into 5 times over 3 days, including at the pancake breakfast and the church service the night before the race – her support and encouragement were unparalleled), my family and friends who inspired me (especially my sister who could be heard screaming over the entire crowd – “Ron, you’re a rock star. You’re going to be an Ironman!”), my training partners at home who without them I wouldn’t have even reached the starting line, and I of course thought about Mike Reilly saying, “Ron Kowalczyk, You are an Ironman.” While difficult (and slow I might add), the marathon went by quicker than any I had previously run. As I reached the 25 mile marker, something indescribable came over me and to try to explain it would be futile. It was if I had just awoken from a long sleep, full of energy and excitement. The last mile of my first Ironman may very well have been the fastest mile I ever ran. I was passing people like they were standing still. And then I saw it – the entrance into the oval, the final lap before the finish. 
Turning the corner I saw the finish line. It was surreal. To be honest, I only vaguely remember the last 50 yards of the run and really don’t remember the moment I crossed the finish line. Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, there was an arm around my shoulder and someone congratulating me. My handler was awesome. “Congratulations” he said, “You’re an Ironman. How do you feel?” I felt great. Strangely, I was actually hungry. “That’s a good sign,” he said. “What would you like to eat?” “PIZZA!” I replied. “Well, I have good news for you. We have pizza.” He went on to say, “The fact that you want solid food at this point is great. You’re going to be just fine.” He removed his arm from my shoulder, congratulated me again and pointed me to the pizza tent. I think those two slices were the best pizza I’d ever had. After eating and stretching, I found my family and collected my belongings from transition. After dropping everything off at the hotel, we went back for the finish line party. Whether you are an athlete or a spectator, the finish line party is something everyone should attend. It’s truly amazing. In short, I was blessed to have had a perfect Ironman experience. Thanks to everyone who helped and inspired me along the way. I couldn’t have done it without you. But don’t think you’re done – I’ve signed up to do it all again next year.
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